


Commencement

by preussisch_blau



Series: Prompt Me: The Writening [7]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Family Fluff, Gen, Headcanons Everywhere, Not Sure If I Got the Timeline Right?, headcanons, oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 17:30:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7231957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preussisch_blau/pseuds/preussisch_blau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the meme: Leave the first sentence of a fic in my askbox and i will write the next five.</p><p>Prompt: The large crowd erupted in enthusiastically thunderous applause as the chestnut haired 15 year old closed her acceptance speech, upon becoming Central City High School's youngest valedictorian, and bounded down the steps two at a time, dashing over to her father and squeezing him tightly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Commencement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheCowboyArtHistorian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCowboyArtHistorian/gifts).



> Five sentences the meme said. Five. ::shakes head and sighs at self::

The large crowd erupted in enthusiastically thunderous applause as the chestnut haired 15 year old closed her acceptance speech, upon becoming Central City High School's youngest valedictorian, and bounded down the steps two at a time, dashing over to her father and squeezing him tightly.

The wind was knocked out of Harrison as his daughter collided with him, and not allowed to return because she held him so tightly. Not that he minded much, not when he was so terribly _proud_ of her accomplishments, not when he held his Jesse just as tightly in return. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head as he tried to find something to say.

Tess would have known what to say. She’d always been better with spur-of-the-moment words. The intervening years had dulled the pain of losing her, but in that moment, Harrison felt her absence as keenly as he had the day she died.

He kissed Jesse’s head again, sighed softly. “Your mother would be as proud of you as I am,” he whispered.

Jesse squeezed him tighter, a quiet sniffle escaping before she let go and pulled back to be held just inside his arms’ length. Her eyes were watery, but that did nothing to take away from the beaming grin that stretched her face. “...Thanks, Dad.”

They slipped away from the high school as soon as the ceremony was officially ended. Not that leaving quickly spared them from _all_ the intrusive attempts at conversation or interview lobbied at Harrison by the other families present and the journalists reporting on the event, but he’d managed to shut them all down with politeness he hadn’t really felt. Sometimes he very much regretted the success of S.T.A.R. Labs, not for how it had revitalised an area of the country that had financially devastated following the war, but because it had garnered him a level of celebrity that was exhausting at best.

Today was about Jesse and her achievements, and celebrating them as a family. Not about him, not about his work. It would have been nice if the public had the gods given sense to realise that without being _told_ as much, but Harrison hadn’t really _expected_ that level of critical thinking.

As soon as they were in the car, Harrison thumped his head against the steering wheel. “I am so sorry.”

Jesse laughed. “It’s not your fault you’re famous.”

“Think about that statement and revise it, Jesse Quick,” he muttered, grinning despite himself.

“Okay,” she agreed after a moment, “Maybe it _is_ your fault, but… I’m used to it? So I was kind of expecting all that.”

He sat up to buckle his seatbelt, shook his head slightly. “Glad one of us is. Did.” He frowned. “Both, really.”

Jesse bounced in her seat, and Harrison felt a bubble of laughter catch in his throat. High school graduate she might be, but in so many ways she was still his little girl - he could so easily picture her a decade ago, sitting in the same spot, bouncing excitedly and chattering about what her first day of school might be like. He wasn’t quite sure he was ready to take her off to college in the fall, even if she wasn’t leaving the city.

“So,” she drawled, holding the ‘o’ longer than was strictly necessary, followed by a chirped, “Pattaya?”

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he pulled out of the space. “How could I forget? You’ve only been insisting on Thai for the past month.”

As much as he would have preferred something else, Harrison wasn’t going to begrudge Jesse a meal at one of her favourite restaurants on _today_ of all days. Not that he didn’t still have the passing urge to strangle the friend who had introduced her to Thai food, because until then she’d enjoyed nice food with simple flavours. Food that didn’t manage to irritate the majority of his particular sensibilities concerning the sensory aspects of eating.

But. Special day. He’d live, if only by the grace of plain white rice. (Well, that, and Pattaya was quite accommodating about the whole “curry, only no sauce, just the meat and vegetables” thing. Unlike some other restaurants they had tried.)

As they headed for the restaurant, Jesse chattered aimlessly about what some of her friends were doing over the summer between high school and college. Harrison dutifully filed away mental notes, if only because it mattered to Jesse that Shanelle was backpacking across Europe - “When you’re eighteen, sure. Until then, over my dead body.” - and Christy was just going to stay home and relax - “Maybe you two can. Hang out. Or whatever teenagers do these days.” - and Alex was headed off to West Point in two weeks - “You know how I feel about the military, Jess.”

It wasn’t until they were settled into a private booth, their orders taken - his plain meat and vegetables and rice, her curry so searingly spicy Harrison knew he wouldn’t be tasting anything but the chili fumes coming off her plate - that Jesse drew silent. Like she’d run out of steam, almost, except she had a considering look about her that stood a fifty-fifty chance of not boding well for Harrison’s sanity.

He was going to miss that look when she went to college.

At length, she grinned. “How does it feel?”

“How does what feel?” Harrison raised an eyebrow curiously.

“How does it feel knowing I beat your record?”

He looked away, a helpless grin playing at the corners of his mouth, and huffed out a laugh. So that’s what that look was about.

“Jesse,” he began, trailing off into silence.

“Well?” Jesse leaned forward, propped her chin on the heels of her hands and waited with a wide grin.

“I graduated from Keystone West,” he pointed out lightly. “So my record still stands.”

Jesse blinked at him once, then twice in quick succession. Then she just slid her face down behind her fingers. “Oh my God, Dad, I meant how does it feel knowing I graduated a year younger than you. Why do you always have to be so literal?”

“Just how I am,” Harrison replied. He shrugged, even though she couldn’t see it, then reached over to pull one of her hands away from her face.

When he was met by her incredulous stare, he smiled tightly. Words were never his strong suit, not without careful planning. And part of him wondered if she’d ever believe him if he told her just _how_ highly he thought of her: even now, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say Jesse was his greatest accomplishment. And she was still growing and learning and fitting herself into the world.

Even if she’d graduated at eighteen like her classmates, even if she never got a college degree, Harrison would still consider her his greatest success so long as she was safe and satisfied.

She’d probably never believe that either, probably bring up his labs, his damn particle accelerator - and how a machine that had _failed_ would ever compare to her, he didn’t know, but then, she didn’t know how spectacularly it _had_ failed. Only knew that there had been a setback, that the electromagnet cooling system needed to be strengthened before the next round of collisions. But even if it had worked perfectly… Well. It was just a machine.

But he’d never been good with sentiment, not even when her mother had been alive.

So Harrison didn’t mention any of how he really felt.

“I feel happy and proud,” he said instead, voice soft. “Incalculably so.”

And he hoped she understood.


End file.
